Iridescent
by Attila the Hahn
Summary: SSSB. Severitus. The Weasleys win the Galleon draw merely three years after the Sirius's imprisonment. What happens when Sirius escapes Azkaban the summer Harry turns four? Will Severus step up as a father? What about Sirius and Severus's relationship?
1. Prologue

**Warning: While this is a Severitus, it is also SSSB slash. **

Though merely twenty-five, it had been many years since Severus Snape could truly be called a young man prone to giving into whims. Indulging in the simple pleasure of sleeping past sunrise was not unheard of for the young man but certainly a rarity. It was a nearing the end of July, and, as there were no dunderhead children to teach in the summer, Severus allowed himself to laze the morning away.

As the sun filtered in through the threadbare curtains, the man cursed his decision to spend the summer in his home at Spinner's End rather than in his dungeons. He pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes tiredly. If the properties of Dreamless Sleep Potion were not so addictive, he would allow himself to take it on a nightly basis. He could not afford to give way to something as mundane as addiction, though, so he endured the unending nightmares that contained more memories than he would like to acknowledge.

The bell tower near the edge of town began to clang out the hours as Severus sat on the edge of the bed and placed his bare feet upon the hardwood floor. Eight o'clock, he mentally acknowledged. He let out a hiss at the cold lacquer that seemed to seep into his skin. His trip to the washroom to relieve his bladder proved to tax his anger when he caught sight of a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from weeks back. He sneered at the flashy, grinning picture of the Weasleys. He had the unfortunate privilege of having the oldest Weasley boy, Bill, in his class. There were many more Weasleys to come if the picture was any indication. There were _seven_ of the little cretins, all ranging from the little girl of about two or so all the way to twelve-year-old Bill. Apparently, the family had won the _Daily Prophet's_ annual Grand Prize Galleon Draw and had decided to take a vacation. "What a waste," Severus muttered as he splashed water on his face and cleaned his teeth.

Bill, as ridiculously Gryffindor as he was, had a knack for Potions. He spent as much time playing pranks as he did listening in class, but his marks in Potions were Outstanding. His secondhand cauldron and tattered books rivaled those of Severus's own when he was in school, and the Weasleys would have done their family a better service if they had spent the money on their children rather than vacation. His lip curled when he noticed Bill bouncing his fat, tattered rat, trying to get it to react for the picture. As a familiar, it looked to be on its last leg in life.

Using his wand to flick the old _Prophet_ into the rubbish bin, Severus exited the washroom and made his way through the empty house to the kitchen. Not for the first time, he considered getting a house elf, if only to keep the dust from accumulating. As per usual, the thought was banished almost as soon as it entered his mind. House elves made good tea and their meals were grand, but they could not replace the personal touch that came with personally making something for consumption.

When his breakfast of toast and tea was finished, Severus collected the new _Prophet_ and sat. He took a sip of tea and swallowed the scalding liquid thickly when he saw the headline: _Sirius Black: Escaped._

Blinding fear spread through Severus as he looked into the angry, gaunt face of his childhood nemesis. It was not an emotion he was familiar with. Even prostrating himself before the Dark Lord, knowing he could be found as a spy and a traitor did not invoke such fear within the young man. It was not fear for himself. No, it was fear for someone who had much more to lose, for someone whose death would affect the Wizarding World as a whole: his son. Harry Potter.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Severus felt unendingly foolish seated on Arabella Figg's porch in his awkward muggle clothing. The button-down collared shirt made him feel constricted and the pants too noticeable. The lack of a robe made him feel extremely exposed, as did his placement on the small porch.

There was very little movement in the Dursley home. Ugly, horse-faced Petunia was seen peeking through the curtains several times throughout the day, but it was an overall exceedingly boring afternoon. There was no sign of the child—neither Potter nor Petunia's own. Fortunately, there was also no sign of Black.

The only exciting occurrence was from a brief encounter between one of Figg's many cats and a particularly nasty looking stray dog. Renewing the cooling charm on his person, Severus considered leaving for the day. A pang in his chest made him able to admit his wish to see Harry

It was ridiculous and unlike him to be sentimental but it was true nevertheless. Hunger pangs began to plague Severus as the sun began to lose its intensity. He resigned himself to returning another day when a car turned into 4 Private Drive.

Severus muttered a spell to sharpen his eyesight and watched in disgust as an astonishingly obese man exited the car. His face was so red it was almost purple and he was raving about something. Severus sharpened his hearing as the man opened the back door. "Bring your freak nephew he says," the man growled. "I insist, he says." He panted as he leaned into the car, struggling with something just inside. "Stop your sniveling, boy!"

Severus's skin prickled at his tone. With narrowed eyes, he watched as the man pulled a fat boy out of the car and settled him in his arms. The man was obviously struggling under the little pig's weight, and Severus sneered. The boy was clearly the fat little offspring of the large, fat Dursley man.

"Get out, boy. Do _not__bleed__on__the__seat_," Dursley hissed, looking around to make sure no one was watching. The wand was in Severus's hand before conscious thought caught up to his actions.

A waif of a child slid out of the car, his tiny body barely able to move before the car door slammed. Severus's breath caught at the anger coursing through his body as he watched Dursley carry his fat, capable son into the house. Harry's left eye was swollen almost completely shut, and there was a nasty looking cut on his eye brow.

Harry grimaced silently and wiped the cut with his sleeve. The dirty, stray dog whined and nudged the little boy. "Hi," Harry whispered with a grimace that might have been a noble attempt at a smile. The toddler let the dog lick his face and closed his hand in the dog's fur. The filthy animal nuzzled the boy and sat there patiently as the child clutched him close.

"Puppy!" Severus tore his eyes away from the pitiful scene and watched as the Dursley boy waddled out the door with clutching fingers.

"Dudley!" Petunia shrieked and pulled the boy to her bony body. "That dog is dirty and could make you sick."

It did not go unnoticed that she was not concerned for her nephew's safety. The dog stood protectively in front of The Boy Who Lived, hackles raised. A growl peeled from the animal's throat. "Shoo," Petunia hissed, stepping back and flapping her hand uselessly. "Get inside, boy, and take a bath." The woman looked around cautiously and her eyes immediately found Severus's. She either did not recognize him after so much time or he was too far away. He watched a change take over as a kinder mask took the place of her previous unpleasant face.

"Come inside, little Harry," she cooed. Severus watched painfully as timid hope and surprise washed over his son's face. The poor boy did not know it was an act. His innocence was still intact, at least to a degree.

Severus ended the spells on his person and walked into Figg's house without bothering to watch the ending of the little display. Black was all but forgotten, plans to virtually kidnap Harry Potter flitting through his mind like elusive fireflies among the inferno that was his temper.

It was extremely difficult to not simply blow the Dursleys and their home off the face of the Earth.

By day's end, Severus had an overly simple harebrained scheme in mind: watch the home until Harry was alone in some fashion, and then whisk him away to Spinner's End. Apparating with the Boy Who Lived was a fair foolish endeavor, but it was his best chance.

When he apparated to the house, he was aghast at his luck. The sun was setting and the boy was trying valiantly—and failing—to weed the garden in the back, fenced-in yard. "Potter," Severus said quietly.

Harry's head jerked up and he looked about in the fading light. If he did not finish his task, there was a chance there would be no food for him. Someone said his name, though. He strained to look past his swollen eye but was unable to do so. Plus, everything was always so blurry.

Severus quietly swept forward and crouched in front of him, causing the boy to flinch away. "I will not hurt you, Harry," he said quietly. "My name is Severus, and I am here to take you away."

Harry's head jerked toward the house. "My uncle—"

"Will no longer hurt you. He is of no consequence now. You will come with me to my home and we will sort this out for you."

After a moment, Harry stepped into his embrace. The three-almost four-year-old seemed to have no qualms about trusting the man, and it both pained and joyed Severus.

Severus stood up with the small boy in his arms and prepared to Apparate. As he wordlessly said the incantation, a snarl reached his ears followed by a burst of pain in his thigh.

It took little thought to realize the foul stray had decided to protect his charge. Severus viciously hoped he got splinched in the apparating process.

He was vastly disappointed as they landed in his drawing room to find not only was the mutt fully intact but it had transformed into Sirius Black and had Severus's own wand pointed at his face.

_Reviews help with the muse! Please review!_


	3. Chapter Two

Severus twisted so the small child was shielded from the prison escapee. "Black," he said slowly, his grip on the child little more than an animalistic sheltering of his offspring. Panic was coursing through his veins, and any bargains he could hope to make with the deranged mutt eluded him.

"Release the boy, Snivellus," Sirius snarled, his eyes holding an insane light not present in his years at Hogwarts. "I do not care what your dark plans are for him. I _will not_ hesitate to kill you."

Severus pulled on his magical reserves, preparing to perform wandless magic his body was ill-equipped for. Though he was well-trained in wandless magic, apparating both himself and Harry through Hogwarts's many wards was likely to kill him. For a child he never wanted, he thought ironically.

"No!" Harry suddenly shrieked.

Severus was shocked to discover that the magic he had been pulling forth was suddenly tightly bound inside his body. "Foolish boy!" he snarled.

Sirius's eyes widened when Severus abandoned thoughts of magic and full-bodied attacked him. Harry landed safely on a cushion on a nearby sofa but fell forward and hit his head on a decorative statue. Severus groaned in almost physical pain when he felt rather than heard his wand snap.

"You're not going to get him, Snape!" Sirius swung at the Potion Master, but the force behind the punch did not hold the same brunt from his boyhood.

Severus took the blow with little reaction, though his jaw did smart. "I will get you back into that ruddy cell if it's the last thing I do, Black!" His punch landed squarely, breaking the git's nose.

Sirius's head bounced back onto the floor. He covered his face. "I'm his godfather, Snape! I will protect him at all costs!"

Severus jerked his knee over Sirius's just in time to prevent the blow to his groin. "Protection? You're even madder than I thought, Black!" His fists landed solidly one after another. "You will not harm the boy! Never—hurt—him—again!"

"Stop."

Severus froze at the whimper and slowly lifted his eyes from the bruised, bloodied face of Sirius Black to the heavily bleeding, mortally frightened face of The Boy Who Lived. The toddler tripped over his overly large pants as he scrambled backward, away from the piercing onyx eyes that danced with anger.

"Harry—" Severus glanced down at Black and sighed. Gaining Harry's trust after such an extreme show of violence would be difficult. "Black, if you move, Salazar be my witness, I will erase your presence from this Earth."

Sirius found it difficult to focus on Severus's words, much less make any movement.

Severus slowly got to his feet, hands held before him in a universal surrender motion. "I'm not going to hurt you, Harry. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but this man is a very bad man. He hurt a lot of people and given the chance, he will hurt you too." He tried to project his fear to the small boy.

Tears spilled over the one visible bright green eye, mingling with the blood dripping down his face. Though he was obviously terrified and possibly susceptible to the feelings being projected, the baby's chin lifted in an apparent and familiar act of defiance. "No. Snuffles is good!"

Severus gritted his teeth. Reasoning with a toddler with trust issues was not high on his priority list at the present. Getting him to safety was his goal. "No, he is not. Do not think to defy me, child. I am the adult in this situation, not you." Reigning through terror was something he excelled at as a teacher, and he did not think twice about employing such techniques in the volatile setting he found himself in.

Harry's little body began to tremble, but he stood solidly. "You're bad man!" he whimpered before darting toward Sirius.

Unfortunately, at that same moment, Sirius leaped at Severus mid-transformation, his massive half-paw-half-hand catching Harry across the chest. The claws, long from neglect and sharpened for protection, tore through the skin like paper.

Sirius was knocked back by a silent shield spell, his human body hitting the floor with a dull thud. The convict was forgotten in panic as Severus rushed to Harry's side. The small child's eyes were squeezed tightly shut in pain, and tears were leaking from the closed eyelids. Severus shot to his feet and swept everything off a nearby shelf.

Sirius did not dare move as Severus pulled a wand seemingly out of nowhere.

Potions were summoned and forced down the toddler's throat. Incantations were performed. Severus stood over the boy for over an hour trying to repair the damage, not only from the current confrontation but from past neglect and abuse. "Don't die," he kept muttering. "Everything in my life will have been for naught."

Sirius was sitting against the wall, his arms wound tightly around his knees as he watched Snivellus Snape, bane of his existence, show more love and compassion for his enemy's son than he had to anyone during his whole seven years at Hogwarts.

Severus finally collapsed in exhaustion, convinced that Harry would survive with minimal long-term damage. His wand snapped up and he somehow found his way to his feet when Sirius began advancing.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked suspiciously, his hands held before him to show Severus he was unarmed. The blood on his face was dried, but the swelling was impressive. "What—_why_ do you care for Harry, Sni—Severus?" Getting through to the man would take a little more than using that age-old slanderous nickname.

"That is none of your concern, Black. In fact, there is not much that _is_ your concern except the inside of a _cell_!"

Sirius transformed and bounded across the room as Severus shouted _Stupefy!_ The two collided, and Severus found himself pinned to the ground by Sirius's slight human form. Unfortunately, his own build was little better than the emaciated man's on top of him.

"Listen! I didn't kill the little rat, though Merlin knows I wanted to!" Sirius gritted out. "I knicked some guard's _Prophet_, and he is with the Weasleys!"

Severus did not realize how far gone the other man actually was until that moment. "Alright," he said slowly, silkily. "Is he under the guise of Arthur—possibly the youngest boy? Maybe the only Weasley girl?"

For the barest moments Sirius really thought Severus believed him, but the mocking tone was not contributing to any such belief. "Snape—Severus—you have _got_ to believe me. We all became animagi to accompany-" he broke off guiltily and looked at Severus with sorrowful eyes. "We did it so we could be with Remus on the full moon."

Severus felt a serge of anger go through him and bucked wildly to dislodge the convict's body from his own. "Do not speak to me about that creature," he hissed, crouching wildly. He despised the way his body stiffened with fear even years later. "I do not care-"

"I would never hurt Harry. He was—is!-everything." His dark, haunted face took on a look of pleading. "I know the fault of their deaths lies with me, but I cannot go back there. I never realized how much of a disservice I was doing Harry by going after him, but I need you to believe me!"

Severus was fascinated with the other man's apparent grip on reality. Though the other man seemed to have a threadbare grasp on his sanity, it was there. That much could not be said of the other residents of Azkaban, even after so short of a term as a few months. How, then, had the man not only retained his sanity but also managed to escape when it had not been done before? There was no doubt that the nearly three years in the wizard prison had taken its toll, but it was not as evident as it might have been. The story was heartfelt, but it was difficult to believe at best. "I do not believe you, Sirius Black. Accomplished liar you may be, there is no way this would have gotten past Albus."

A look of complete devastation took up residence on the con's face. "James—he felt like a pawn. _I_ felt like a pawn, and we just...we wanted to make the decision on our own. We wanted to make a decision without including Albus, _for once_. Switching Secret Keepers led to James's and Lily's deaths, but it was not _me_." In a fit of inspiration, Sirius threw his hand out. "Veritaserum! I know you used to be brilliant in potions! You can brew some if you haven't got any in stock, and then you will know the truth!"

Severus's eyebrows lifted in surprise, though his wand hand did not waver. Sirius Black was willingly offering to submit to an interview under Veritaserum with his most hated childhood enemy. Thoughts of revenge and getting concrete, irredeemable evidence made the idea sound really good. "Very well," he said curtly. Turning to his small child, he raised his wand. Swiftly, protective wards were raised, as well as one to alert him if the child woke up. "Follow me."

Sirius followed Snape out of the room and into what could only be described as a roughly designed potions' laboratory. The Potions Master gestured for the other man to seat himself on a stool he placed specifically out of arms reach of anything within the impressive lab. A quick look warned Sirius to touch _nothing_.

The house was not as Sirius pictured. While he was aware Severus Snape was not an _actual_ vampire, he still always imagined his home as being as close to dungeon-like as possible. There was a distinct dusty feeling to the house, as if it was not often inhabited, but it had an overall comfortable feel to it.

There was no surprise on the convict's face when Severus returned from a nearby storage room with an already prepared phial of the clear truth serum. He supposed it never hurt to have any potion on hand for all varieties of situations.

Carefully measuring out the potion, Severus watched closely as the emaciated man sitting before him swallowed. Leaning against the counter after taking the small glass, he watched and waited for it to take effect. "What is your name?" he asked quietly.

"Sirius Black III." The answer slipped out easily enough.

Severus narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "What was your rank in your years at Hogwarts?"

Sirius grinned roguishly. "Always number three, right behind yourself and the lovely Miss Evans."

The town bell tower began its ringing as Severus decided the Veritaserum had enough time to work. "Who is responsible for the Potters' deaths?"

The previous laughter was wiped from Sirius's face. "I am," he said gravely. At Severus's obvious look of haughty skepticism, he shook his head. "You should ask better questions. The truth is relative, no?"

"Who betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord?" Severus asked after a brief moment of thought.

"Peter Pettigrew." Sirius leaned forward and looked at his clasped hands, finally feeling as if he had a true shot at redemption and freedom.

"Is that why you blew Mr. Pettigrew, as well as several defenseless muggles, to pieces?"

Sirius quickly shook his head in denial. "I didn't—Peter did."

There was a pause, and Severus struggled with the honesty behind the words. If he did not brew the Veritaserum himself, he would have thought it was a bad batch. "Pettigrew took his own life?"

"No."

Severus tutted. "Your answers are conflicting."

Nostrils flaring, Sirius glared up at the man. "I told you earlier, and I _was not lying_, Peter is alive."

Severus stared down at his potion-stained hands in thought. His mind was racing at the implications. "What makes you believe that Peter Pettigrew is alive?" There was no malice or scorn in his tone; he was merely after answers at that point.

"I confronted him, Snape! He sniveled and cried and begged for mercy, all before cutting off his finger and blowing all those muggles up!" His stomach threatened to upheave the little food that was in it at the memory.

"He then disappeared?" There is where the story became a matter of disbelief.

"He _then_ turned into the rat he is and escaped," Sirius corrected. Had the man listened to nothing of his story earlier?

"What do you mean—the rat he is?"

Sirius settled back into his chair, uncomfortable though it was. "Illegal animagus. I was a dog, James a stag, and Peter a rat-"

Severus cut him off before he could speak of the blasted werewolf again. "You did not mention this when you were tried?" he asked impatiently.

Sirius's eyes darted up to meet Severus's, completely taken aback. "There was not trial, only my denial of guilt and the admission of charges."

Startled, Severus stared down at the man. He saw no mockery, only truth. His mind raced at the possibilities. Surely, Albus would not have allowed such a thing, especially when it came to one of his precious Gryffindors. "They just threw you into Azkaban with no concrete proof?" he asked slowly.

A bitter laugh closer to a bark was issued and Sirius covered his face with shaking hands. "Thought they had the proof. No need for a trial, so—yeah."

The two sat in silence for sometime, both wrapped in their own thoughts of guilt and pain. "Why did you send me to your werewolf friend?" The voice and the question split the silence with the startling briskness of a knife.

Sirius's whole body, already tense, became taught with fear. He clamped his mouth shut, obviously fighting the truth serum. The other man leaned back impassively and waited for the truth to come out. "I was a stupid kid. I wanted your fear and—I wanted you to like me."

"So you set a wild _animal_ on me?" Severus demanded, thrown into a sudden rage.

"Yes," Sirius answered simply. "I can explain it no more than that."

"You could not have tried kindness? You needed the fear to go along with the admirationg? You sodding-"

"I did not need the fear to go along with it. It just seemed like the only way." His eyes truly pleading, he silently begged the other man to believe him. "I was a kid. I thought it was harmless—Remus never hurt—I never thought-"

Severus listened to the half-hearted non-explanations with a heaving chest. He was explosively angry, sick with all that he hand learned. He pitied the man before him and knew the could no more turn him over to the ministry as he could turn Harry back over to the Dursleys. "How did you retain your sanity these past years?" he finally asked after a long stretch of silence.

"By spending as much time as possible in my animagus form. I never registered so—Dementors do not affect animals' minds the same."

"Why are you here?"

"I saw you kidnapping my godson-"

"No. That is not what I meant. Why did you search out the boy?"

"I had to see he was safe before I went after Peter. I couldn't leave after seeing how he was being treated."

Severus gripped the wand in a holster in his sleeve. The Veritaserum would wear off soon, but he had to know one last thing. If the other man was oblivious, then it would be Severus's final, crippling act of revenge. "Did you know from the beginning, like your," he sneered angrily, "_friend_ did, that Harry was my son?"

Sirius blinked up at Severus. "No?" His face showed immediate consternation. "Harry is not your son, Snape. He is Lily's and James's. _Not_ yours."

Staring down his large nose darkly, Severus slowly intone, "You were clearly his best friend and know best." He swept from the room with little heed to his potion lab. It was nothing in comparison to his lab at Hogwarts, and he was willing to wager that Black cared more about being around Harry than his penchant for destruction.

Severus stood in the kitchen making tea, listening with begrudging amusement as Sirius attempted and failed to lie several times before uttering a few terribly outlandish fibs. Teacups were set on the dining room table as Sirius stalked in with a look of mad loathing. "Harry is the spitting image of Jame Potter. I was there the day he was born—I have never seen James more proud."

"And yet," Severus said, placing his teacup upon the table and wiping his mouth with a napkin, "he did not hold his son for the first week of his existence." Head cocked, he turned devastatingly perceptive obsidian eyes on the other man.

Sirius sank into a chair. He refused to believe the other man's words. The first chance he had, he planned on getting Harry away from the apparently deranged Potions Master. "You haven't the capacity for the love it takes to raise a child, Snivellus," he said with little conviction.

The lack of bite in the words did little to ease the sting. Severus's heart ached at the truth behind it, but he was no less convicted in his decision. The alternative could include any number of things, including losing Harry to a rich, artistocratic pure-blood. He was not willing to release the Savior of the Wizarding World, or his son, into the care of anyone who would not give him the home he deserved. "You may take your leave now, Black," he said steadily, slowly raising his teacup to his lips.

Surprise colored Sirius's words as he said, "You're not going to help me clear my name?"

Eyebrows lowered in consternation, Severus stared unblinkingly at the other man. "Surely you are not serious." When no denial came forth, he laughed derisively. "You are of no matter to me, Black. Your fate, though precarious at best, is your own."

Sirius blinked and looked quickly at his teacup, realizing that his only hope of clearing his name lay on the shoulders of a man who was apathetic at best and vengeful at worst. Getting revenge on Wormtail was a very realistic dream that led straight back to Azkaban. The possibility of having a life around his Godson was more appealing, even if it meant begging Snivellus Snape. "Please," he whispered. "I know I have made my mistakes. Do you really think-"

"No," Severus said swiftly, meeting his eyes fiercely. "You wish to take my son from me the first chance you get—your mind is poorly defended. It is as if you are literally projecting your thoughts. While I realize you may not have committed the crimes you were being imprisoned for, you are not completely blameless-"

"I was a stupid kid!" Sirius snapped, realizing where the finger was ultimately pointing. "I am sorry that I wish to take Harry away. It is an instinct that I can't seem to part from where _you_ are concerned. I can fight the urge to dash into the night with him riding upon my back, but I really need your help." He ignored the fact that Severus had read his mind and concentrated on the fact that he did not want to spend the rest of his life with Dementors.

The silence that infused the room was filled with tension and unspoken questions. "I do not have the influence you seem to think I have," Severus said quietly. "I narrowly escaped Azkaban myself, and I have no wish to find myself within its confines by harboring an escaped convict."

That fact had not occurred to Sirius though he supposed it should have. However, he did not have the luxury of freedom. "You have your freedom," he pointed out needlessly.

Nostrils flaring on the sallow-skinned face, Severus turned away with flourish. "You may have free roam of the upstairs, especially the bath," he intoned, giving the animagus an emphatic look. "You are not to wander beyond this kitchen on the lower level without my explicit approval lest you wish to fall into a bout of particular bad fortune." He hesitated on the way out, wondering if his sanity was truly failing him. "You may make use of the kitchen and any food in it."

Sirius sat at the table, staring at his hands. His long, piano fingers were so thin they looked merely skeletal led to his long, skinny hands and long, wasted arms. In the nearly three years since he had been free, his body had been wasted away to nothing. His life had been wasted away to nothing, with no one in it to care for or rely on except Harry Potter, whom the entire wizarding world was relying on. There was also Severus Snape, who Sirius never would have gone to except in such a contorted situation.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Old Dog?" he muttered as he hefted himself to his feet.

In the drawing room, Severus stared down at the small boy who had turned his life around in one afternoon. Pulling out his wand, he carefully hovered the boy down the hall and into his own room. It was the best possible way he could think to keep an eye on him.

It was hours, long after the clanging in the old pipes and then the kitchen died down, before Harry's eyes fluttered. "Pot—Harry," Severus said, leaning forward from the marginally comfortable lounge chair he was seated in. He brushed the dark hair from the baby's forehead, trying not to startle too badly at the twinge in his Mark. There was a hint at a possible fever that Severus quickly checked with his wand. "I have some potions for you to take."

Harry stared up at Severus, whose face was daunting in the flickering candlelight. He drank the potions worldlessly, never complaining of the taste though happy to wash it away with the cool water that was offered. "Are you my dad?" he asked unabashedly as he sank into the pillows once more.

Severus hesitated. His plans were not concrete, though he did not believe that giving up a child of one's own blood was something to be done twice in a lifetime. "Yes, Harry, I am."

The resigned, sad look on Harry's face was mystifying, but he merely nodded and closed his eyes.

Unable to help himself, Severus brushed the child's mind with Legilimency. It was a dangerous thing to do with the mind of a child so young as Harry, but it was as if he could not help himself. Feelings and memories flooded Severus. His breath fled as he was assaulted with the feeling of utter loneliness emitting from the young mind. Harry felt as if he deserved Severus, who would undoubtedly treat him little better than the neglectful Dursleys. He was a freak, a nobody, and he should not be allowed to have his Snuffles.

A crash from the other room brought Severus back to himself, and he covered his face. Harry was asleep once more. The boy was obviously used to terrible treatment and was little more than resigned to being treated the same by Severus. The initial, inlaid trust that had been present when picking the child up was completely gone, replaced by fear and distrust.

Severus cursed Sirius Black and swept out of the room to find what the mutt had decided to destroy.

The scene in the kitchen was a pitiful one. It looked as if much of the kitchen had been disrupted in the quest to fix a big meal for one. Leaned over the sink was the chef himself, vomiting.

Severus surveyed the disaster and the food laid out on the table and decided it was a simple matter of a starved man eating like a starved man. With a wave of his wand, he vanished the food. Forgoing the nearly automatic charm to send the dishes into the sink, he holstered his wand. "You imbecilic dog. You are clearly emaciated to the point of illness. Stuffing yourself with food richer than you are used to will garner this particular reaction. If this is not cleaned up by morning, I will have your animagus form stuffed and mounted."

It took more will-power than he wished to resist fire-calling the Three Broomsticks for Firewhiskey but resist he did. Severus needed to be clear-headed to think about the situation he found himself in.

There was an escaped prison convict in his home, who he had willingly allowed to stay, though he felt better when he realized the argument he put forth made his points clear. Harry Potter was also in his home, occupying his bed. His small mind was warped by nearly three years of severe psychological abuse and neglect. While it was not a completely impossible situation, it was a rather daunting one. The small boy had a trust in Sirius due to a few days' protection by his animagus form so there was some degree of help that the mutt could provide.

Severus settled in the chair beside his bed and watched the impossibly small savior. With a self deprecating smirk, he realized that he would ultimately have to help the boy heal, physically and mentally. How he was to do that through his own numerous issues he did not know. He was not going to suddenly start holding anyone's hand or singing lullabies.

He could find it in himself to provide for the child, though, and he figured that was better than his previous caretakers.


End file.
